Open Minded
by Carnicirthial
Summary: Batman and Robin meet a telepath who unnerves them. Dick and Bruce met the same telepath, and now she living with them. She's a wedge between the two, so how will they cope?
1. Mental capacity

Hey guys! Well, from the encouragement of Nightshade0020, I've written this little story, with no idea where it'll climax, what the climax'll be, or how it'll end. But, other than taht1 Enjoy, revew, and be Merry! I'd like to thank Nightshade0020 and dvvlanzor (sp?) for curing me of my ignorance and unflagging help and supplyment of ideas. Note: You don't have to have seen Batman Begins or read my other Batman fic to get this, but it'll help in later chapters. REVIEW!_**

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Open Minded

Average life. That's what she had. She had an average life. Nothing particularly special about her, other than… well, maybe life wasn't so average. But other than her "colorblindness" she was average. Now she was average. She lived in Gotham City, in the average four room apartment with a mother (who was a model housewife), a father (who went to work at nine and was home at five everyday in the same suit), and an older brother (who was of average grades and average football talent). She was of an average height, with average brown hair at the average length of above past her shoulder blades, with an average sized room with average posters. She was simply average.

At least, that's what she told herself every time she looked in a mirror. She was average. No she wasn't. She was pretty in her own right, despite the slightly disfigured nose from being broken, and the odd shaped feet from being broken, and the weak arm from being broken, and a plate in her shoulder from being broken. Her mind was sharper and stronger than a diamond knife, from being broken. She readily smiled and laughed, though her own jokes were refreshingly dry, with a broken sense of humor. Maybe she wasn't average, she was broken.

And that's what she told herself after she tried to convince herself she was average. True, her _life _was average, but _she _wasn't. She was special. Special and broken.

But, life goes on, and so did hers. She woke up that morning, really not wanting to go to school. Average High, it ought to have been called, with average oozing out the walls and dripping off the teachers and pooling on the desks. It was, if possible, the most average place in America, with every expectation and stereotype of a high school being met. But in Gotham it wasn't so average. It was the only school that was never attacked by mobs, or crazies, or district assessments. No one knew it, but that was her doing.

"Morning, Ross." Jake piped as she filed off the bus. How embarrassing for a junior to be on the bus, but she'd had her license pulled for reckless driving. Really, she'd been driving in the Narrows where only mobsters went, which was reckless driving on her part. Even five years later, the Narrows was still worse then it had been before the gassing.

"How very clever of you to have noticed." Ross was uneasy this morning, the same way she'd been when the school was attacked months ago. Fortunately, it hadn't happened again.

"Oh, what's in your mind this time?" Notice how Nac hadn't said "on."

They knew, her friends, they knew about being "colorblind." She just shook her head.

Bean walked up. "Hey dorks." He glanced at Ross and sighed. "Again, huh?"

She nodded. "Again… but different."

Bean just laughed. "Well, whoever it is this time will be in for a nasty surprise. Did you see the guy with the Mohawk last time? He looked like he'd wet himself!" the boys burst into laughter

Ross grinned. That one had been particularly resilient. "He did."

That comment brought a whole new wave of mirth from the boys, but was cut short by Ross collapsing. "Ross, you okay?" Jake gently propped her head up, his hand resting momentarily on the plate in her shoulder. It gave him the chills what had happened to that girl.

"Jake, gimme your keys. I've got to go home." She stood up.

"But you had your license pulled…"

"Like a give a shit right now! Gimme your keys!" In his sight her eyes went black. He mutely handed over the keys.

Rushing home so fast she had two cop cars on her tail, she skidded to a halt at her apartment building, parking in the fire lane. To the officers that had been following her, the car and driver suddenly disappeared and only reappeared when the driver was in the elevator, headed for her family's apartment.

As she stepped out of the elevator that had moved a sickeningly slow pace, a wave of panic rolled over her. The floor was completely devoid of color, except two faint pulsings from under the door of _her _apartment.

_Please, don't let them be dead. Please don't let anything bad have happened. Please don't let _him _be here._ The words repeated over and over, her silent mantra as se opened the door.

Before the narration continues, one should know that Ross wasn't really colorblind. She saw colors, but not the way an average person does. People, souls, were a myriad of color, each one the same make up but drastically different depending on the person. Behind each soul a little trail of color was left, where they touched, where they walked, and with it how they had felt at that time in space. Inanimate objects were a dull grey, outlined by the faded traces of soul that had marked them. But death was black. Actually, death was a void, the absence of color that couldn't be penetrated at all by anything. And right now, the apartment was a gaping hole of darkness.

The two pulsations of color were her mother, and her ex-father. Not many people have an ex-father, but Ross did. Now she had two, because the father she had loved lay in a pool of darkness, right next to the pool of darkness that had been her brother.

"Oh my…" Ross couldn't express grief that way she wanted to, not yet. There was a gunshot, and her mother became a void of her own. "WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?"

His drunk slur answered, "Yous isss mine. N-not dis bitcheses. I'm taking… I'm taking yous backd." Just then the cops ran into the room.

One of them called for back up, but she could not hear them, Neither could her ex-father. All they heard was his mental screaming. To him, the world went black. Every blow he'd ever issued was given back to him a hundredfold. Disturbing images floated in his skull. And then, he almost died. At that moment Ross pulled out, leaving him a shriveled shadow of a soul, quaking so violently that the next storm would blow him away. It would have been merciful to kill him.

"What… what happened?" One of police officers called the call for back up short, totally forgetting the reckless driving.

"His conscience caught up with him." Ross went into her room, threw everything she owned into a cardboard box, and carried it out to Jake's car.

Back at school, first period hadn't even started. Jake looked up from where he was copying Nac's homework. "That was fast. Everything okay?"

Ross sat down and let Jake into her mind. When he came back out he hugged her tight, wiping away her tears. "It's okay, Ross, this happens a lot here. It's okay, you can move in with me."

Ross just cried and cried.

* * *

"Where exactly do you think you're going?" Bruce walked into his room to find him staring at two suit on his bed. One was black and the other was… black.

Dick didn't look up but instead started pacing around the suits as if they wouldn't be identical if he saw them at a different angle. "I've got a date."

"With who?" Bruce leaned against the door frame as if he was going to enjoy the inevitable argument.

"Girl from school. There's a dance tonight, she wanted me to take her." Dick decided on the black suit.

"Did you want to take her?" Dick began the cross-examination of his shoes.

"Not particularly, but I might as well go and have fun." He chose the less rancid of the pairs of shoes.

"Well, if you didn't want to go, then you'll have no problem with me saying you can't." Bruce began to leave.

"I didn't say that! Who says I can't go?" Dick dropped the suit and shoes on the floor, suddenly heedless of them.

"I say." Dick looked murderous. "Did you read the paper this morning?"

Bick looked like he'd asked if the sky was blue (which in Gotham it wasn't). "When was the last time I read the paper?"

"Right, I forgot, yours is the generation of ignorance. Two-face broke out this morning, along with the Joker and Jane Doe."

Dick's shoulder's slumped. "But we just caught Joker. And Doe gives me the creeps." Dick stood up straight again. "You going out alone, I've got a date." He repeated it as if that made it impossible to deny.

Bruce laughed and walked off.

Dick stared after him for a moment. He calmly hung up his suit, put his shoes back, and called his date, claiming the 24 hour flu, and sank on his bed. Very calmly he screamed into the pillow, "I HATE LIVING IN THIS HOUSE!" Then he calmly put the pillow back, went down to the cave, calmly glowered at Bruce, and calmly thought of rear ending the Batmobile with the R-cycle.

"I'm going to see what Gordon knows, you start searching. And stay OUT OF THE NARROWS!" Batman's voice buzzed into his ear. _When I move out, the first thing I'll do is vow never to take on an apprentice so that he won't hate me ferociously._

Not like he hadn't planned on moving out, recently he thought about it more and more frequently. Batman was demanding mentor, even now when Robin could almost surpass his aging teacher. And Bruce was a restricting father-figure, not remembering his father's disciplines and starting from square one. He never got to make any critical choices by himself, and when he did it seemed they always ended badly because of some unthought-of interference.

As soon as the Batmobile was out of sight, he headed directly for the Narrows. He didn't even bother to turn off his locater. _See if he can tell me where to go._

Soon, he was stalking the Narrows, the petty rebellion fueling his energy. There was a suspicious body floating down the river, with all of Jane Doe's characteristics, but she'd only been out for 24 hours, she couldn't have possibly already studied her victim enough to mimic him perfectly. She was screwed up, that woman. With no personality of her own, she found people, stalked them, and became them. It was a little eerie. Scratch that, it was Arkham Asylum eerie.

He wasn't paying much attention to the lighting of the place, accustomed to the black of Gotham, he just assumed the Narrows would be a little darker. But soon it was more than a little darker. It was pitch black, and no amount of light seemed to be able to get through. _Should I call Batman? No, I'm not supposed to be here, I'll be just fine without him anyway._

No sooner had he thought than then a foreign, more feminine voice answered, _You shouldn't be. Go home, Robin, before you get hurt._

He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Who said that?" he shouted, but he couldn't hear the words.

_Leave._

"No, not until I know what you're doing here." _And who you are._

Then, he was kicked. Hard, in the stomach, sending a web of pain coursing through his torso. _Too late. I hope you survive, you never did anything wrong. _He heard cracking, it felt like he'd been kicked in the jaw. Searing pain entered just under his shoulder blades. He kneecap was shattered. He got a bullet in his brain. But that wasn't the worst part.

Images swirled just beyond his reach. Demons with drunk faces circled him, laughing as he bent over in pain, swinging at the invisible assailant. Dark shadows swirled at his feet, he could feel the seeping cold rise up through his body as they engulfed him. He knew he was shouting incoherent words at that new voice in his head. He thought, _Am I going insane?_

Then he heard a scream. He knew it wasn't his, his lungs had been punctured moments prior. He feebly raised his head, every vertebrae in his back cracking with the effort. In front of him sat a man, a man who was obviously withered down by the years of worshiping his beer bottle. He sat in a bright, harsh light, curled up and convulsing. A girl, not far from his age, perhaps a year younger, sat in a chair with one elbow on her knee, watching him as if he were a dying bacteria squirming in its last moments of life. Somehow, Robin knew that the man was feeling the same torture he had, only worse, for he knew that it hadn't been meant for himself, rather for the pathetic man on the floor.

The girl watched him coolly, calmly. Her face was a sheet of ice, Robin felt that if he touched it, she would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Even her eyes seemed to be made of ice. Her irises were as black as the Batcave before the light were turned on, an image Robin had hated inside himself. But her pupils were milk white, as if cataracts had made a permanent home in her eyes. He knew she wasn't blind, because her eyes flicked back and forth, following the twitching of the man.

Finally the man lay still and the girl stood up. Robin was appalled by the sight of his misshapen body, but soon after she stood the chair and the corpse faded away. She was about to walk out, but Robin mentally moaned. Her blind eyes snapped toward him, sending chills down his damage spine.

He managed to think, _What did you do?_

_Nothing. It wasn't real. I was just imaging what I did to him this afternoon, only slower. You just walked in. _She crouched in front of him, and he suddenly found himself propped up against a wall he hadn't known existed.

_Not real? But it feels real…_ His head rolled forward, too tired to hold it up.

She slid her hand under his chin and titled his face up. _You got hit with the aftershock. I'm glad you didn't keep walking, because then I might have killed you on accident._

He found he could painlessly move his arms, but he was too exhausted to do so. _Where did I walk into?_

_My mind._

He heard her laugh at the face he made. It was light and easy, not harsh like you'd expect after watching what she had done to that figment of her mind. _It's complicated. But none of this really happened to you. For all appearances, you're just standing in the middle of the street with a blank look on your face._

He nodded, not understanding at all. _I better leave, then._

She laughed again, and he found himself in the middle of the street.

_That was weird. _He decided that he was leaving the narrows.

_No kidding._

He bolted for the R-cycle.

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So, what'dya think? Should I bother to write more? REVIEW OR FACE RABID FANGIRLS!


	2. Brain Teasers

Okay, I moved this story into the comics section, hoping ofr a wider reading. True, it's not really Batman, but Batman plays a promeniate (sp?) role, so I'l take the loop hole. Fair warning: I have no idea how to write a Batman fic. My information comes from online friends, the new graphic novels, and the movies. I take all that and bled it together so that you might night get everything and some of it might be plain wrong. Oops. So, if I'm wrong about somwthing, tell not flame.  
_**Nightshade0020**_: congrats on being my only review. That's right, your my only reviewer. thanks for the info on the R-cycle, I didn't know, obviously. And I'll explain how he walked into her mind later. Oooo, mystery!

Oh, please note that towards the end I never say Ross because Dick doesn't know her name. I did that on purpose, morons.

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Brain Teaser

He felt like he had a hangover. He probably did, he didn't remember what he did last night. He rolled over and could almost feel his brain slide to the other side of his skull. Dear lord, everywhere hurt. He would have groaned, but his lungs felt like pulp.

"I told you not to go into the Narrows." Bruce was reading a book at the end of his bed.

Dick groaned. "Don't shout."

Bruce whispered, "I wasn't shouting. Did you get drunk last night or just beaten bad?"

Dick dry heaved as an answer.

Bruce put down the book. "What did you do last night?"

Dick shook his head, and regretted it immediately. It would have felt better to have his head put in a drying machine. "Was in the Narrows, had some sort of weird hallucination… crossed the bridge and must have blacked out."

Bruce looked pensive. "Hallucination? I thought all the traces of that gas were gone by now."

Dick dry heaved again. When he was done he muttered, "Wasn't that type, it was… real."

Bruce shook his head. "They all seem real at the time, but they never are. They're just imaginary images."

Dick covered his head with the sheet; he was too tired to argue right now.

* * *

"Ross, wake up, we have to go to school."

She flashed him a spiteful image with the thought, _It's Saturday, you son of a hooker._

"That was uncalled-for." He beat her over the head with a pillow. He stopped as soon as he heard her mental scream. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

_No, not that, I feel like I have a hangover. Why were you beating me with a wooden board?_

Jake sat down next to her on the couch and slowly rubbed her back. _Is that what you were out doing last night? You were getting drunk? You _hate _alcohol, passionately last time I checked._

She flashed him an image of a mountain of aspirin He handed her the pills and she engulfed them with her gaping mouth eagerly. _Wasn't getting drunk. I had a little… meltdown in the Narrows and someone walked in._

Jake whistled, causing Ross to cringe violently. _Don't do that._

_Did the guy survive?_

She pulled a blanket over her head._ Yeah, but he probably feels as good as I do, if not better._

Jake knew she meant worse when he watched her vomit up her meager breakfast onto his carpet.

* * *

Next Monday Ross still felt under the weather, but going to school was better than rotting in Jake's rancid two room apartment. He was technically a minor, but "a mysterious benefactor" was the owner of the small pad. Really, Ross had just tweaked the landlord's mind to make Jake look fifty. The good thing about staying with Jake was not having to ride a bus and instead riding in a car he'd restored himself. It was proof that his future didn't lie in car mechanics.

"Miss King?" The principal intercepted Ross's pass to her wide receiver – the back of Bean's head. "There's someone in the office for you."

Jake, Nac, and Bean made "ooh, you're in troouble" noises as she followed the principal, mentally giving them rude gestures.

In the office stood her parole officer, a cop, and a social worker. _What is this, a joke?_

Her parole officer, Wilma, stepped forward. With a name like Wilma, parole officer and cartoon character were your only career options. "Ross, I'd like you to meet Nora and Commissioner Gordon."

Ross groaned. Loudly. "What'd I do?"

Gordon's eyebrows went up behind his thick glasses. "Actually, this list goes on. But recently? You broke your parole by driving, which was also breaking the law because you have no license to speak off, and you're living with a parentless minor with a permanent record slightly more impressive than yours."

Ross sat down backwards on a chair. Gordon did likewise, staring her down. "Alright. So?"

Wilma cracked her knuckles. Ross knew that meant _plug up that yapper of yours or I'll plug it for you. _Ross knew she would, too. "So, another two months of parole for that little stunt. Only two months because we realize what a rush you were in."

Ross nodded. "And what does that have to do with me staying at Jake's place?"

Nora stepped forward but Gordon cut her off. "You're a minor. You can't live with another minor, especially one like him. So, until next October you need someone to have custody of you. That's what Nora's here for."

Ross looked the woman up and down. To her, the woman was a whirl of indecisiveness and unconfident personified. "Yeah, right."

Gordon thought, not knowing she could hear, _I know, you'll probably walk all over her. Why do you think I came?_

Ross leaned forward. "Do I get to pick who I live with?"

Gordon cut off Nora again. "No, I do."

Ross laughed. "I can guarantee that I'll have myself kicked out of any house in Gotham by the end of the week."

Wilma flicked the back of her head as a warning.

Gordon examined her face. She was defiant, for sure, but she was smart too. _I bet you could. _"Weren't you living with foster parents before their murder?"

Ross's grin disappeared. "That was different."

Gordon nodded, mysteriously understanding. "Alright, I bet I can find someone with a will as stubborn as yours."

"I dare you."

Gordon smiled as if he'd won. "How about Bruce Wayne?"

* * *

"Bruce Wayne." He picked up his office phone, almost filled with dread. It was Gordon. What had Dick done?

"Mr. Wayne? This is Gordon."

Bruce balanced the phone on his shoulder and began writing out people he could cash in favors with to get Dick out of jail. "Hello, Commissioner. How can I help you?"

"You can help me win a bet."

"Well, I'm not much of a gambling man myself…" Had Dick been gambling at the police office?

"You, all you have to do is be more stubborn than a teenager for a week."

Bruce sighed. "What did Dick do this time?"

"Dick? He didn't do anything, he's been a model citizen as far as I've heard, which you should be glad isn't much. No, this is a kid named Ross King."

"Well, Gordon, one teen boy is enough for me to handle…"

"Oh, Ross is girl. She's a good kid when she's properly motivated, and will spend most of her time sulking in her room. You'll hardly notice her."

Bruce was digging for a way to get himself out of this. "Dick sulks enough for me, thank you, I don't need another moody teen in my house."

"She's not moody, her parents were killed brutally in front of her last Friday."

Bruce knew how that one felt, and Gordon knew he's sympathize. Bruce sighed. "Alright, she's welcome here."

* * *

The doorbell rang. The doorbell rang again. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

Dick slid down the banister shouting, "I'm coming! Stupid Girl Scouts, don't get your skirts in a bunch!"

He opened the door and felt like he'd hit a wall. First, the girl standing in front of Commissioner Gordon was _really _pretty. Second, the look on her face made her not so pretty, it made her look like Freddy Kruger. Third, he recognized her from that weird hallucination he'd had. She looked almost the same, except the cataracts had disappeared.

"I'm not wearing a skirt." The Freddy Kruger face was replaced by one of mild bemusement.

Gordon spoke. "Dick, is Mr. Wayne here?"

"Bruce? Oh yeah, Bruce." Dick blushed at his sudden loss of suavity. Not that he'd been very suave to begin with. "He's not here, something about a board meeting. You need him for something?"

Gordon look reluctantly at the girl and then at Bruce. "I suppose not, all the papers have been signed. I've got somewhere to be, I trust you can make your new guest at home? Good." And left. She was standing there, with a box at her feet looking very lonely all of the sudden, and he left. He left both of them together. There was no one else there, because he left.

He wasn't aware that he'd been staring blankly until she said, "Dude, you look like you're going to start drooling."

He snapped out of his thoughts and picked up her box. "Umm, let me help you with this." He picked it up and set it on the staircase. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Dick."

She looked at his out stretched hand and then back up at him. "You _are_ Dick or you are _a_ dick?" She picked up her box and headed up the stairs.

He followed her up the steps. "I hate to be the one to tell you, but that was a lame try at an insult."

In a squeaky voice she mimicked, "I hate to be the one to tell you, but that was a lame try at an insult."

"That was mature."

"Excuse me if my sarcasm and dry wit are sparse today. In the past week I've had my family massacred in front of me, had to transfer from my high school to some prep school, had to move out of two homes, and got landed into the same house as you. I'm not really in the mood to be clever. Try again when Hell freezes over."

Dick whistled. "You too?" He unceremoniously tramped up the stairs in front of her.

The Freddy Kruger face was back. "What the hell would you know about it?"

He led her down a hall while speaking. "Before Bruce took me in I lived with my parents and brother. Close as a mom, a dad, and a kid could get. Well, things happened and before I knew it I was orphaned."

She snarled. "Were they shot in the head while you watched?"

He walked into a room she could use. It had the smallest closet of all, but it was right across from his, conveniently. "No, they fell during their act and hit the cement before I could do anything."

She looked sympathetically after him. "Act?"

"We were the Flying Graysons." He flipped on the light. It didn't seem to make a difference to her, even though he squinted in the new brightness. "You can use this room as long as you're here. Bathroom is through that door."

She put her box down on the bed and opened the walk in closet. "Is there a room with a smaller closet?"

Dick had been afraid she'd complain about how small it was. "Uh, no that's the smallest one. Why? Don't girls have mountains of clothes?"

She looked at him like he'd suggested all girls liked Justin Timberlake. "No, not this girl."

As to prove her point she pulled a pair of jeans, three t-shirts, two sweaters, and pair of socks, and one change of underwear out and put them away. The closet looked humongous, now that Dick thought about it. Out of the box she also pulled a cell phone, various computer disks, a mountain of bills, and a suit.

Dick asked in a quiet voice, "Is this all?"

She nodded. Then the cell phone rang. He noticed the caller ID said, "Hot stuff."

She picked up and motioned for him to leave. He did, but he also sat at the door, feeling guilty for listening.

"Hey. Yeah, I'm there. It's gigantic. No, I'm not kidding, we could put all of the school in this place. Yeah, I had to transfer. Some preppy school. I even have to wear a uniform. Oh, of course there's loop holes. No, I don't get my license back for another two months. So, how was your day?"

There was a long silence.

"Sorry. Listen, I'll see you later, there's a dick listening to me talk outside my door. Oh, are we still playing at the Halloween dance? Good, I bet we could hold practices here, it's big enough. Alright, bye."

Dick scrambled away from the door and was halfway down the hall when she stuck her head out. "Listening weren't you?"

He nodded.

"No hard feelings." _After all, I'll listen in on your thoughts all the time. _"Hey, Dick, was it? Can I borrow your bike?"

_How'd she know what I drive? _"I thought you didn't have your license?"

"Since when have you needed a license to ride a bicycle?"

_I feel like a moron. _"Oh, that type of bike. Well, um… I don't have one."

She looked at him like he'd admitted to not owning a TV. "Why?"

"Because I can drive."

She looked him up and down, making Dick very uncomfortable. She look like she was appraising livestock. "Then how'd you get calves that look like you're smuggling beer kegs?"

He wondered how she could know that, he was wearing loose enough pants that you couldn't really see his girlish figure. The comment made him want to cross his legs in modesty. "Listen, wherever you need to go I'll give you a ride."

Her gaze snapped up to his face. "I don't think you'd want to."

"Why not? Where are you going?"

She licked her lips and went back into her room she muttered something, but Dick heard her well enough.

"Why on earth do you want to go to Arkham?" He leaned against her door frame.

She slammed the door in his face, suit in hand. When she opened it back up she'd exchanged her t-shirt that read "bite me" under a pair of vampire fangs and jeans that looked like they were made to fit someone taller for the well cut-if-threadbare suit. "I work there."

_Well, that explains a lot. _She frowned as if she'd heard him.

She walked past him and began playing with her cell. "It pays well, I get medical, and I only have to work four days a week. I don't complain." _Which is a bold faced lie._

He scurried after her. "It's not a problem, in fact it's kinda cool. I've never been inside Arkham."

She shut the cell as he opened the garage for her. "Trust me, it's no place you want to go to soon."

He flipped on the lights and watched as her jaw dropped reverently. "Pick one." He motioned to the collection of motorbike and cars. To his astonishment she chose a sleek motorcycle instead of a car. "Are you sure, it's not exactly passenger friendly."

"I know, Nac has one." She scooped up a helmet and sat down. "Keys?" She held out her hand expectantly.

He jangled them, but didn't place them in her outstretched palm. "I thought you didn't have a license."

"Technically."

"So you can't drive."

"Why not?"

"Because that's a little thing we like to call illegal in this house."

She crossed her arms and slid back. "Boy Scout." She watched wistfully as he started the ignition. He glanced back at her depressed face. Just one more thing that hadn't gone her way, but Dick knew how many little things led up to the breaking point.

He sighed. "You can drive as soon as we're off Bruce's property." She grinned and squeezed his middle tight, sending butterflies coursing through his stomach.

* * *

So, what say you? Why don't I have reviewers::sobs in corner:


	3. Empty Minded

WHOOT! 3 FREEGGING REVIEWS! Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. Okay, I'm temperarly done with that hiatus I was on. Hopefully. Well, first, I guess I ought to warn you that my knowledge is limited to what I know, what Nightshade knows, and what Dvlansor (sp?) knows. Even tho they're brilliant, I'm nothing special, and I'm writing this fic. Basicaly, I'm flying blind. So don't get on my case.

_**Pirate Gyrl**_: Nice to see you again! Yes, chappie 1 is confusing, and it doesn't get much clearer in this one, but hey, ignorance is a form of bliss yes?  
_**Nightshade0020**_: Thank you again for all of your help:round of applause: And who says she doesn't know?  
_**Onthnis**_: Thank you for your praise, and welcome to Psycoville.

In case you didn't notice, that chapter titles have nothing to do with the content, they just all have something about minds or heads. Any suggestions containing either are welcome!

* * *

Empty headed

She slid off the bike with practiced grace. However, it was all Dick could do to stand up straight. A drive across Gotham on the back of that motorcycle wasn't an exciting prospect, and neither was clinging onto a girl for the whole ride. Clinging because she was quickly showing him that she full deserved to have her license pulled. The ride had been one of his scarier experiences in life.

With a wink she tossed him the keys. "Thanks for the ride."

He sat down. Suddenly he was shaking violently, and it wasn't because of the ride. "No problem. When should I pick you up?"

She laughed. "Why, you want to repeat the trip? I'll call a cab, I get paid today."

Just as she handed him her helmet the Batmobile pulled up.

"Heya, Bats. Long time no see." She gave him a mock salute and held the door open. Dick noticed that Batman had an especially steely stare for him.

She looked back at Dick; he wasn't gaping like most people, but his stare was following Batman down the hall. She grinned and motioned for him to follow. "Never seen Batman before, huh? He doesn't normally use the front door, in fact he doesn't normally visit. He just leaves the catch of the day somewhere that the cops will find it and goes on his merry way. He must be visiting someone today."

They stopped at a desk. The burly security guard looked up with a scowl, but upon seeing her his scowl turning into a slightly lustful grin. Then he saw Dick and the scowl was back. "Evening, Miss King. How was your day?"

She signed a clip board, initialed something closely resembling a waver, and slapped a badge on Dick. It read something to the effect of he was a temporary visitor, here on legal business, and was well insured. "Oh, it was hell, Harvey. And yours?"

Harvey eyed the badge she'd given Dick. "Little young to be a blood sucking lawyer, isn't he?"

Miss King simpered, very effectually. "Oh Harvey, he's safe with me. Please don't tell?"

Harvey pretended to think about it. "Fine. Here, you gotta sign in. New rule since the break out."

King paused before putting her signature down on the paper. "Why because of the breakout? Everyone knows that Arkham is virtually a bed and breakfast for wackos, they leave so fast. Why's this time any different?"

Harvey motioned to the clipboard, making it very clear he wouldn't explain further until she put her name down. She hastily scrawled her name and looked up expectantly. "You know who broke out, right?"

She hesitated, so Dick answered for her. "Face, Joker, and Doe, right?"

Harvey nodded, somewhat irked that the boy should continue to win the favor of his pedophilic affection. "Well, turns out, he's got help on the inside."

"Who?"

"Joker. One of the doctors."

King gave him a look that expressed her desire to wring a straight answer from him and he hastily added, "Harlene Quinzel. You worked with her, right?" King had suddenly gone very, very pale. "Ross, are you alright?"

_Aha! Your name is Ross King! Or maybe King Ross… _Dick's train of thought was cut off by a sharp pain in his arm, the sharp pain of being pulled very fast to an unknown destination.

"Ross, is it? Um, where are we going?" The question was ignored. Dick was used to running very fast, and once he'd regained his arm he could take a proper look at the inside of Arkham. It was derelict in every sense of the word, with nasty colors oozing off the walls and crusted on the floor. It was in the worst possible condition, and it couldn't have been made any better by the frequent escapes of the inmates. Politicians and tightwads argued against giving the place more money, saying they'd be rewarding the prison/hospital for terrible security, a terrible security from a terrible lack of money.

They skidded around a corner and into an empty office. Ross looked around, very similar to a bloodhound sniffing out its prey. Before Dick could say anything she was off again, stopping every now and then to stare at the ceiling, floor, or walls. He got the distinct impression she was following a trail he couldn't see, strengthened by the path she was taking. They were going right to where the directories on the walls said the padded rooms were.

Dick skidded around another corner and slammed into Ross, who'd slammed into Batman. _Oh boy, I'm gunna get in so much trouble when I get home. _He grinned feebly at his mentor behind Ross.

"Miss King, I suggest you turn around." Ross was easily half of Batman's size and weight, yet as he issued the command she squared her shoulders and glared.

"I don't think so, Bats. What the hell are you doing here?" Over Batman's shoulder Dick could see an old man take off his glasses and massage his temples, but made no move to stop the conflict. "You know I'll find out," she whispered.

His nostrils flared. "Interrogating Dr. Quinzel on the whereabouts of the three escapees."

"No you're not. Every time you 'interrogate' one of the inmates, they turn into a basket case. Alright, more of a basket case. Whatever you want to know, I'll find out for you." She stood on her tiptoes to better impose her will on him. The sight would have been very comical, if Dick didn't know what Batman could do to Ross.

"Um, Ross…" Batman's eyes darted to Dick.

"Who's he?" He really meant, "What are you doing here?"

"Guest of mine."

"He doesn't belong in here."

"Then you can show him out."

"Do it yourself, he's your guest."

"You know, most people would argue that a grown man who dresses like a flying rat at night should have his own padded cell. Keep bugging me, and you'll get it."

Dick was now thoroughly terrified for Ross's well being. "Um, Ross, maybe you should…"

"Get. Out. Of. Here. Now." Dick had been examining his shoes, and when he looked up he'd expected Batman's lips to be moving. Instead they were white with anger; totally immobile.

Dick almost passed out when Batman shouldered past Ross. She nodded as a farewell and he scuttled behind the incensed vigilante. _This is like a bad episode of the Twilight Zone. _

"You've got explaining to do." The Batmobile whirred to life as he spoke.

"You do to. She can't be older than sixteen!" Dick slid onto the motorcycle, glad that he was driving.

"Shut up."

* * *

"Harlene? It's me, Ross. I brought you some coffee." Ross wrapped Dr. Harlene Quinzel's hand around the steaming mug. 

"Mr. J. calls me Harley." The once composed doctor was, in a word, completely un-composed. The hair that had once been in a tight bun was scattered all over her face, and in place of the short skirt and white coat was a straight jacket with the sleeves undone so the coffee could be enjoyed.

"Who's Mr. J.?"

Harley shook her head. "No no, he said I couldn't tell, or he wouldn't love me anymore."

Ross crossed her legs, making the pair look like school girls trading secrets at a lunch. Then one noticed the setting and the moment was ruined. "Dr. Quin- Harley, do you remember what I do to the patients who don't want to talk?"

She nodded. "I'm drunk on love, honey, not stupid. That little trick of yours is why you're so valuable here."

Ross looked sad. "You committed a crime, Harley. If you don't cooperate to bring back the Joker, Face, and Doe, I'm gunna have to use that little trick of mine."

The former doctor's eyes watered up. "Please don't, honey. He'll be so mad at me!"

Ross sighed. She gently took the cup of coffee and left the room… or so Harley thought. Suddenly the arms of her straight jacket fastened themselves. She stood up thrashing about best she could, constricted as she was. Her head began to spin, and there was a _kathunk _that was her head hitting the floor. Everything became blurry, she felt like she was drunk.

She'd gotten drunk only once, thus far, and that was with Mr. J. He persuaded her to bring him something he shouldn't have (Your choice, pumpkin, of course, I just want to have a good time!). She'd chosen booze. Partly because she'd hoped he'd get drunk enough to kiss her, partly because she was hoping she'd get drunk enough not to remember getting fired if they found those two, and partly because she'd always thought alcohol was for Bad Girls. She wasn't a Bad Girl, she was a Good Girl, but Mr. J. converted her. She missed him, with the white skin and the green hair. As soon as she got out she'd show him for leaving her all alone here in Arkham.

Harley felt something pull out of her head, an odd sliding sensation, like a knife that was so sharp you didn't realize it was in and out of your lungs until you saw the blood. She looked up and saw Ross standing there, looking at her with pity and remorse. Ross wasn't a Good Girl, but she wasn't a Bad Girl. She was one of those odd shades of grey that couldn't get classified. She was always so helpful, calming patients, keeping them in line, retracting information…

_Oh, damn. _Harley realized what the slick retraction had been. Ross had been in her mind, and she had gotten all she wanted to know. Harley leapt at Ross… and flew through the hallucination and into the wall behind it.

* * *

"She's what, sixteen? Seventeen? And she says 'get out' and you leave? What's wrong with you?" Dick was in the Batcave doing pushups while Batman looked something up on the computer. 

"She's too valuable of a resource to lose." He finished and stalked over to the Batmobile.

Undeterred, Robin slid his helmet on and kept talking through the intercom link. "And that means…"

"She's _very _good at retracting information from people. I'm still working on how she does it, but it works." The Batmobile sped out of the cave.

Robin hopped on the Red Bird and followed. "So why pretend to put up a fight if you're just going to let her do the interrogating every time?"

"Because then she might begin to look on the … relationship with less and less animosity." The Batmobile turned toward the center of the city.

"Consider you a friend? What's wrong with that?" Robin peeled away. They had already discussed the route he was to take on the continuing search for the escapees.

"She uses friends. I'd be careful if I were you; don't get too close."

* * *

Batman slammed on the brakes. Ross King was standing in the middle of the road, thumb out in a hitchhiker's pose. "Get a lift, Bats?" 

He opened the door and stepped out. "You can get a taxi."

She sauntered closer. "Yeah, but then you would find out what I was going to tell you."

He stared at her for a considerable amount of time. "Get in."

Ross climbed in, quiet for once.

Batman hit the gas. "Talk."

Ross looked uncomfortable. "Well, I know you don't want to hear that Harley and I were friends, so I hope you'll consider what I'm about to tell you as a peace offering."

Silence.

"Okay then. Well, for his past couple of stays, 'Mr. J." has been working on Harley. It's gotten to the point where she's so love struck that she's legally insane, meaning she didn't know letting out Joker, Face, and Doe would be bad and bring retribution on all parties involved. So she let her 'puddin' out, along with anybody who was present."

"Joker, Face, and Doe."

"Exactly. You're smart, I bet you can guess which of the three is Mr. J."

"She say where they went?"

"Nope… but I caught something about Joker trying his hand at organized crime again. You have any idea what that means?"

Stony silence. Then, "Decade or so ago, when he first came to town, Joker united all the gangs in the city. He would have made a considerable dent in Gotham if it had lasted."

"Someone screwed it up?"

He didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip.

* * *

The refrence to the Ubermob of Joker's is from my other Batman fic, and if you'd read it you'd know why Batman touchy about the subject. SO, REVIEW OR GET RUN OVER BY THE BATMOBILE! 


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